"internalising" poems
i was watching batman (1989) and batman returns (1992)
today, and i couldn't stop layering over birdman (2015)
over both films, it was such a comedy, you knew
that it wasn't a serious engagement
in the role, i just kept picturing
the internal monologue -
the action scenes were already
a gimmick when in the birdman
the explosions start with the critique
of what people actually like to see -
and that critique that the joker
is no more a weird'o than batman
dressed in black leather / spandex -
i just wish heath ledger took a break
from acting, and they did the same
sort of film about the actor behind
the joker, but how would they internalise
the essence of the role: the laughter...
internalising a husky voice can be easily
done when the actor in a different role
can talk easily and speedily without that
haunting husky role of the original part...
but the laughter? it would never work,
which is why jack warned heath
about playing the role... 'son, beware
the laughter.' still, what an enjoyable re-watch,
putting over the birdman nostalgia
over the seriousness of the acting in the
originals, you can actually imagine him
going for a coffee break and taking a ****
when the original screening took place,
the whole: back to reality - it really amplified
the films in a quirky way;
and i still think the joker is the only
doppelgänger that can't be tamed: i'm guessing
because of coulrophobia -
and i could still see remnants of this mythical
doppelgänger on heath in the imaginarium
of dr. parnassus... the clowns are onto you,
you can't steal one of them from
the jammed mini or volkswagen beetle with 20 of them in it,
plus the crying clown, everyone's heard of that
one, they mime laughter, this vocalised doppelgänger
of a clown is cursed -
because unlike actual mimes they don't surd
bewilderment being stuck in a box, or touching
a brick wall obstacle... they surd laughter,
and they share it among themselves in a circus,
vocalising that surd is a curse,
since vocalising an actual mime leaves you
without the actual abstractions,
and from what i heard, brick walls are silent
like graves, unless of course you punch one
or smash a car into one.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
He didn’t see me
I’m depressed
He sees me smiling,
I’m repressed.
I wanted to be his only one
He said stay blessed
But I’m the only one
Cleaning up this mess
He didn’t love me to leave her and be mine
He didn’t want me for more than half time
He kept switching and kept coming back and forth
He kept playing and leaving me in limbo
I stayed true to him, I never lied
Why can’t he see me be by his side
This half baked love has a shelf life
I tried my hardest to make him be mine
He just didn’t see me in that light
Good for a side, good for a small time
Never enough to be his life
Wife. He never cared to live up to his promises,
It’s true, I’m not turning into his wife
He never loved nor he cared
It is beginning to become a hard life.
I’ll leave him, I’ll move on to better skies
No more internalising his lies
I wanted love and security
This was turning a difficult time.
I’ll be gone, I promise I won’t pine
He is the last person who could be mine
Don’t need him, don’t care
Walking out is better than living a stupid lie.
Nov 5, 2022
Nov 5, 2022 at 6:12 PM UTC
She was a strong figure
Not a manly or womanly type
But emotionally strong.
She held a smile all along
While internalising the pain
That kept herself feeding
Her own anguish to the point
that she wasn't herself,
but she held her head up high,
and lived life without a single sigh,
facing troubles head on.
She was a strong figure
Or so I thought
As I awoke to find
Scribbled across the cold
Hard cement ground,
In chalk it read
**"I'm done as promised,
I love you mum, dad
& Kevin".**
News came much after,
And the fruits carried
From the growing tree
Were anything but laughter.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 7:08 AM UTC
Existence, consciousness ..
who are we and what do we do ..
A puff out .. a drag of cold air, racing .. racing .. head full of existential thoughts . ..
Living, a wine glass .. a shot of warmth down my throat . . Emotions these running flow of consciousness .. why do I think it all ?
Lying, in the dark .. an athem of sort, in silence reforms .. ideas and lack of them .. and thoughts, a void is born !
Internalising emotions .. finding my thoughts so alive in this darkness ..
Hurriedly may I pass away to a lack of form ..
Insanity .. beckons me .. and what more can I do but nod .. meaning, I seek meaning. And not an iota of cognition is ever got.
Tired, I am tired of life as I know it, the bones ache, the thoughts become nonsensical and we deliver as we are meant to .. not very sure, not very sound .. in the air . . drifting slowly, and surely .. towards an end.
What is this eternal rack of hell that we are accustomed to... What is this longing for something that has passed us far by .. who am I even, floating aimless .. who are we, under our skin tight hides.
Disaster in the waiting, a last beacon calls to the inward eye .. and I see, albeit shrouded in dark .. nothing. Alas, no meaning.. an absurd, surreal delusion called Life.
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 9:37 AM UTC
Somedays I wrote words
but letters slipped away
lost beyond my grip
reaching and fetching
Somedays I wrote words
then shoved them away
uncased under the bed
searching and vexing
Somedays I wrote words
letting emotions prevail
as the cord strangled
levelling and curling
Somedays I wrote words
presented with numbers
joints of joy and peace
trespassing and pleading
Somedays I wrote words
as a moniker hiding phases
a face on my lost arms
materialising, internalising
Somedays I wrote words
of a deep reflective past
and a sickening existence
passing days, pressing mazes
Today I don't want to hide
neither compartmentalise
nor capitalise the future
It's all the now, the me
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC
I tried to be a man that's patient:
someone kind and calm,
open and understanding.
Someone who felt other’s pain
who didn't let it turn him cold.
You see, their lack of trust
wasn't entirely their fault...
they grew up stunted:
watching their father
abuse their mother.
Or, in his absence they grew up
without him ever there:
erratic, extreme emotions;
thunderclouds of anger,
thus implanted self-hatred.
Then he would return, amusing,
funny - the centre of attention.
Other times he was miserable
or an erratic, manic-obsessive,
a hopeless compulsive mess.
Their mothers stayed quiet
took the lashings, the outbursts
to keep the fragile peace,
while they internalising them,
kept feeling it was their fault.
Innocent, naive, hurt, numb
always feeling like a stranger.
Home? a war zone where
words were irrational, erratic
weapons of mass destruction.
They learned to hurt others
to protect themselves.
They witnessed human weakness;
the unreliable became friends,
the consistent the enemy.
They grew shy and reserved
couldn't stand the spotlight
their skins made them anomalies
spectacles, defectives, tattooed
victims with emotional scars.
Rejected by the outside,
no place to call a home
let alone a safe haven.
They numbed every inch of pain,
outcasts. Or so they thought.
Once in a while their anger
would burst out unexplained,
their heart would pound and
their body would shake
over the slightest inconveniences.
Their thoughts expressed:
"Am I like:my father?
Bipolar, violent, irrational?"
Often flooded their minds.
I believed their words – empathised.
“I deemed myself unworthy
of consistency, reliability,
happiness, trust and love.
I preyed on the weak
they reminded me of my mother.
I destroyed my body
with any drug or liquor
that I could get my hands on.
Denying myself of food,
Starving myself of love.”
For years and years and years,
I helped them stumble upon peace:
once I explored the inner crevices
They surrendered to the war within
and stopped abusing themselves.
Years of therapy.
Countless hours of running
notebook after notebook
Of poetry and musings,
they learned to let go and love.
The trouble, you see
is often lack of self-love:
my perceptions revealed it.
They finally learned to trust:
I've fought one hell of a battle.
I was a Social Worker.
TOBIAS.
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 5:23 AM UTC